The chronicle of a life split between urban Manhattan and rural Montana.

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

A man walks into a bar...

Memorable.
It had been a glorious Memorial weekend at my home in south western Michigan. The weather had been perfect and the kids seemed to truly enjoy being with Dad. Given they had a function Monday evening, I took them home early that afternoon.

Happy hour?
Getting a divorce is a lonely process. Suddenly your life changes and it's just "you". The last thing I wanted to do was return to an empty house without my kids. So, I stopped in "Boystown" for a drink.

All alone.
The last year had been one of transformation. After we separated I'd discovered a gay world I never knew existed. It's excitement made up for the loss of my family. However on Monday, May 29th, 1995 Halsted Street was a ghost town.

Walk on by.
I walked into Sidetrack, my preferred haunt. In those days I could still work a room. Yet that afternoon, the last thing I needed was a free drink. All I craved was to be loved and committed.

Boys will be boys.
Doesn't matter who they sleep with, commitment is not a priority for most single guys. They say they love you and never call again. I wondered, would I ever meet Mr. Right?

Hide and seek.
The place was empty and then suddenly, Frank walked in. While beyond interested, I had to play the game. The mountain had to come to Mohamed. So... I sat there and tried to appear like I didn't see him and... waited.

My one and only.
Slowly Frank made the rounds and suddenly he was standing next to me. The show tunes sing-a-long had just started and we both joined in. Frank edged closer and then finally he turned to me, smiled, and asked,
"Can I buy you a beer?".

Eighteen years ago.
With that question, my life changed. Since then I've loved the one who is perfect for me in all ways. Our life together has been truly a gift. I could not ask for a better friend and partner.Happy Anniversary Frank!